


Choosing Stones

by Anyawen



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Episode: s03e01 The Empty Hearse, F/M, Missing scene-ish, Proposals, TEH, original character Mary Morstan, so many conflicting emotions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-10 06:10:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15285396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anyawen/pseuds/Anyawen
Summary: During a quiet moment in what has been a crazy week, John Watson tries to finish what he started at the Landmark.





	Choosing Stones

**Author's Note:**

> All the scrumptious things to jbaillier, who saw my initial notes for this thing more than a month ago, and then saw at least four revisions of it in the last couple days, and who is still speaking to me.

It's a quiet morning after an eventful couple of days. Not even a week has passed since Sherlock had miraculously returned and John's already been kidnapped, nearly burned alive, and rescued, as well as helped to track down a terrorist and stop a plot to blow up parliament.

Somewhere in the midst of all that, he's also visited a jeweller. The box in his hands feels heavier than it should. Weighed down with meaning.

He's expected at Baker Street later today, to take part in the press conference covering Sherlock's return and the case they've just solved. It'll be a circus, John knows. Dreadful and glorious. Making the news official.

He wants to do this first.

 _Yes,_ he tells himself. _Yes._

Closing his hand around the box, he leaves the bedroom and joins Mary in the kitchen. She's just poured them coffees, placing his on the table as she slides into a chair and sips her own. He nods his thanks and sits opposite her. She smiles. He offers a smile in return, and then, after a moment that isn't hesitation, slides the box onto the table.

"What's this?" she asks, putting her mug on the table and wrapping both hands around it, eyes flickering back and forth between the box and John.

"A ring. And a proposal."

"A proposal? Now?"

"Seems like a good morning to finish what I started. At the Landmark? Surely you were expecting it, yeah?"

"I was, yes. But not now, John."

"And why not? Because he's back?"

"Yes."

"Why does that matter? Why does it have anything to do with us? You and me, hmm? With me asking you to spend the rest of our lives together?"

"It's too soon."

"It's been two years. He's been gone for two years."

"Not since he's been gone, John. Too soon since he came back. Too soon for things to have settled. For you to be sure," Mary says gently, and the gentleness nearly breaks him.

"I moved in with him after one day. We've been together six months. That's an absolute age, Mary. I'm sure."

"Of what, exactly?"

"That I want to be married to you!" John replies. He ignores the niggling feeling in the back of his mind. The one that says this is the wrong answer. On many levels. On any level. 

"What am I, John? What am I to be? A lifeline? Keeping you anchored to a life outside of him? Revenge? Punishing him because he hurt you?"

"Of course not!" he says vehemently. "You're the woman I love. The woman I want to be my wife."

"John Watson. Look me in the eye and tell me that you are 99% motivated by the desire to create a future with me."

"I can do better," he says. "One hundred percent."

"Motivations are never that straightforward. There's always something else. Another consideration," her eyes are sad even as she smiles at John. "This was always going to be about leaving him behind, at least a little bit. The difference is, before, you were walking. Now you're running."

"To you."

"Away from him."

He shakes his head but cannot voice a denial. He _is_ running away, because the alternative is to run back. He is not certain which he wants more. But he does want her. Mary. He does. He loves her, and he wants this. He opens his mouth to say so.

"You shouldn't have changed the ring," she says.

"What?"

"The ring. This isn't the one you had at the Landmark."

"How do you know that?"

"I saw the box on the table as I was coming down the stairs, before you put it back in your pocket. It was red. This one is black. If I had to guess ... the other one is a family piece. Smaller diamond, but loads of sentimental value. This one," she gestures to the box on the table between them, "I'd say it's brand new, with a diamond we can't afford. It's a statement of intent, but you're not making it to me, are you? You're making it to him."

"Mary ..."

"John. I love you. And you love me, I do know that. But this proposal isn't about me. About us."

"I want it to be," he says earnestly, hoping to convince her. Hoping to convince himself.

"Good. Because I want it to be, too. So. Ask me again. No, not now. God, John, I love you, but you are an idiot." She laughs, and John hears her affection and amusement in the sound. He knows, though, that the tears in her eyes are not happy ones. "Ask me again when you're marching. When your step is steady and sure."

"And if ..." he trails off.

"If you're always running?"

He grinds his teeth, staring at the floor, and finally gives a small, sharp nod. He'd walked away before. Crawled. Staggered. Stumbled. Away from the body on the ground. He could do it again, maybe. Moderate his pace.

It was that, or change direction and run on, falling in beside another set of racing steps.

"What then?" he asks. 

"I can't promise anything, John. I hope I'll always be your friend, even if I'm not your wife."

He blinks, taking this in. She's still sitting at their kitchen table. Still sipping her coffee, looking both sad and hopeful. She hasn't said no, not exactly. She's said not now. Not yet. Not until his panicked sprint slows to a confident stroll. She wants him to try. 

_It's possible._ He tells himself. _It could happen._

He summons up a smile and reaches across the table to pick up the ring box. It somehow seems heavier than before, even as he feels set adrift. He pockets it and picks up his coffee. Mary knows just how he likes it, and it's perfect.

It tastes like ashes.

It tastes like relief.

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this fic is taken from the opening lyric of Tonic's song, 'Open Up Your Eyes'. The full lyric is _'Choosing stones/big enough to drag me down'_. It felt appropriate to this fic because John is both choosing the stones (diamonds) with which to make his statement, and because he is choosing the stones (relationships) that will weigh him down. Drowning doesn't look like you'd expect. Sometimes, if you're the right (or wrong) kind of person, it looks like a house in the suburbs with a wife and kids. At any rate, John is choosing his stones, or trying to. This Mary isn't ready to let him.
> 
> I've written in another fic about how John proposed at the Landmark knowing it was too soon for such a thing, and half expecting/half wanting her to say no. Then, after Sherlock's return, he might have wanted something else, but he needed her to say yes. To give him something to anchor him to a life outside of Sherlock. This fic was born from wondering what would happen if she recognized what he was doing. I wanted to explore whether or not she'd let herself be used, especially in the case where she wanted what he was offering.
> 
> It's meant to be a bit ambiguous about what John wants, because I don't think he quite knows. He's conflicted. He's glad that the opportunity to win Mary is not gone, but not sure he wants it even though he thinks he needs it.


End file.
